


Season 2 Episode 5: Love is never really a race

by Heligena



Series: Season 2 Drabbles [5]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:45:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4154103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heligena/pseuds/Heligena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ok so this is my humble little drabble for season 2 episode 5 which was a balls-to-the-wall awesome episode by the way.</p>
<p>This is my favourite piece to write so far, I may have squeed a little mid typing- oh and it's basically just my thoughts on Laura's experiences after Carmilla catches up with her.</p>
<p> hope you guys like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Season 2 Episode 5: Love is never really a race

Everything was a blur. An amorphous series of muddled impressions; clouded by anticipation and stupid teenage nerves...and something fierce and playful she wasn’t even sure had a name.  
A blur.

And yet...  
Somehow there were also distinct moments with an incredible kind of clarity. A snapshot here and there that was stubborn; able to linger as if a flash bulb had crackled and gone off just for them.

Like a foot. Laura’s foot, lifting up for the next step as she raced up the carpeted stairway when suddenly there was no step. No stairs and no floor because she was suddenly scooped up inside a pair of ridiculously lean arms, being held against cotton and aware of a jerky new kind of breathlessness she’d not heard emanating from Carmilla’s chest before. 

A squeal breaking out of her throat.

Blur.

Then open sky. Patchwork blue and opals that winked. It was beautiful of course, in a haphazard distant kind of way but nothing like the bright flush of pale skin hanging over her, and...God, that vivid red. A pulsating, otherworldly red from the cut at the corner of lips where her girlfriend hadn’t been able to keep herself in check. It whispered to Laura of things that fluttered at the edges of her understanding.   
Of cravings and cruelty. 

“Sorry,” came the murmur but it didn’t sound right because the haze was descending again; Laura’s brain couldn’t form the right words to say in amongst all that fog so she rose up on her elbows and pressed her lips against Carmilla’s obscuring the red stain- embracing it and mashing it out of existence in one messy, totally unplanned swoop.

Blur.

Huh.   
Why weren’t there any more words for such a weird feeling?

Then things shift again and it’s not flesh and it’s not colour. But taste.  
Settled coffee dregs and...maybe, cinnamon?  
Just a hint. Not even a hint really sitting there on the tip of her tongue. Or on the tip of someone’s tongue- it’s hard to tell whose.  
A residue maybe. 

She hasn’t had either recently as far as she can recall, so... it must be the memory of those two things that Carmilla had consumed a long time ago then. Old remains. Mixing with the powdered sugar Laura definitely should have tried to brush away before things fell into place so...perfectly.   
Stupid iced doughnut!   
Stupid nutritionless glazed piece of...

Lips are on hers once more and there it is again.  
A warm treacly sweetness as she tries vainly to hold her weight up and gives in, resting a little on top of her girlfriend.   
Carmilla doesn’t seem to mind though- arms wrap around the small of Laura’s back and pull her in, lacing each connection with that indefinite flavour. It travels up Laura’s cheek with each kiss- first the corner of her mouth. Her nose. One eyelid. Then the other.  
A perfect symmetry to it.  
Her heart clenches at a delicacy she can’t see but can most definitely feel.

And then the wave is back and greys coagulate into black and the swirling begins to...

Blur.

The haze sure has a hell of a kick to it.

Laura blinks. Which means her muscles still work and everything’s responding. The problem is there’s skin moving against skin and warmth in the sinkhole at her belly and she wants more. Needs more; to curl up inside of the sweat coating Carmilla’s back but her brain can’t give instructions and all her limbs seem to be living for themselves.

“Is...”

Oh God.

“...Is this ok?”

That low sultry voice she knows so well doesn’t seem to fit those words anymore. It’s thick like molasses and yearning; caked with something as skittish as it is strange. As if it wants to escape Carmilla’s mouth and leap into Laura’s. 

Christ she was thinking in circles- that didn’t make any sense at all! And those beautiful chocolate eyes are still looking into hers, worried. Hesitant.

Laura doesn’t trust herself to reply. Not right now. Instead she grabs a fistful of hair and runs her teeth down along that ribcage; nipping a silent yes against each knot. Affirmative bites. Hoping the blur isn’t having the same ridiculous effect on her vampire roommate- that she has the ability right now to understand how both grand and infinitesimally small this night is.

Whichever the brunette prefers it to be.  
Laura kind of likes both. Feels them both as she’s shrieking because Carmilla is flipping her over and straddling hips. Grinding bone.  
Shearing fog that rises up in the small space between the two of them and...oh right.

Blur.

The last time things come into focus is almost too much. Red hot flames burn through her skin. Undead flesh can’t even cool it down. And there’s so much of it- Nothing stays still. Fingertips are everywhere and closed eyes can’t keep track. There’s staccato breathing from one of them. Both of them. Everyone alive and awake across the face of the world is breathing in that same way like they know what’s happening. 

Something is closing in and Laura doesn’t know anything solid except for the fact that she wants it. Wants to run from it. Would beg her wonderful, beautiful girlfriend just to bring it closer. Or shield her from the thing.  
It’s all so confusing and then there’s no more thinking.

Sensation takes over and that wall of sound that’s vibrating at fever pitch shivers through every cell in her body, down into every cell of Carmilla’s. Taking hold over everything that ever existed or thought it might.

She thinks she may have screamed.  
Or yelled.

It’s hard to tell in the slump that follows; muscles unwinding of their own accord. A resting pace that drives her down onto the woven rug where Carmilla buries her nose into the crook of her neck and smiles against the sinews there.

“...Wow.”   
Laura’s smiling now too.  
“Yeah wow.”

And with those words the haze starts to descend again; multi-coloured this time- layered with glinting threads that won’t stay dormant.

There’s no fighting it this time however. The weariness is too well sewn in. And the pair of them choose.  
Choose to wear it like a blanket as the moon tracks slowly across the sky.

A golden blur in amongst charcoal.


End file.
